a reiteration, a resurrection




At one point I thought it

covered everything, that this was how                                                          

the world preserved itself,

crystal lining in a sauna or on the body

edging up your thighs and tires

and oh! it is so dark outside again

the neoned signs of funeral homes

keeping us as warm as we can ever

get tonight, on nights like these,

where the world is filled with broken bric-

a-brac, and when you sort and line

it all up on the basement floor,

it becomes a zipper through

which the world

is slowly pulled

apart, a part                                                                                                                  

of us on